


one last time

by buenaspalabras



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Ex Sex, F/F, Hate Sex, I mean have you seen Zulema when she's being rough, Useless Lesbians, did you really expect Macarena to not give in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buenaspalabras/pseuds/buenaspalabras
Summary: Exes AU. Four weeks after breaking up with Macarena, Zulema comes to pick up her stuff from their apartment. It’s meant to be a quick, five minute visit, but things don’t really go as planned.
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir, Zulema Zahir/Macarena Ferreiro, Zulema/Macarena, Zurena - Relationship
Comments: 30
Kudos: 124





	one last time

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ash for letting me borrow her prompt, and thanks to Michelle for helping me out. Dedicated to the putas ratas, I'm honored to be a part of you ✨

Zulema rings the doorbell for the third time in ten seconds. The hallway is dark and cold, but she’s also just impatient. She wants to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” The blonde’s voice sounds from the other side of the door. Macarena puts the key in the lock and turns it, unlocking the front door. “ _Joder,_ ” she mutters to herself in the process. Who is in such a hurry at this hour? The blonde pulls the door open, ready to start an argument with the person who has the audacity to ring her doorbell this many times at eleven in the evening. “ _Pero que mierda-”_ Her sentence is nowhere near finished, but she falls silent anyway. 

Zulema. In a colorful sweatshirt - for once - and black jeans, the brunette stands in front of her, a backpack casually dangling off her right shoulder. 

“Good evening to you too, _rubia_. Are you gonna let me in or what?” 

Macarena feels the hate for this woman fire up inside of her all at once. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Zulema’s eyes scan the body in front of her from head to toe. Macarena is wearing her black nightgown, the one with a bit of lace running down her sides. The brunette can’t let herself be distracted, though. She came here for a reason.

“I’m coming to get my stuff. Most of my clothes are still here.” 

Macarena sighs out loud, running a hand through her blonde locks. “And you thought about this _now?_ ” she asks, exasperated. _You should’ve thought about it before breaking up with me and walking out in the middle of the night,_ she wants to say. But that wouldn’t do any good, and she knows it.

Zule rolls her eyes. “This is my last clean sweatshirt, alright? Just let me in.”

Macarena studies her for a few agonizingly long seconds, before she steps aside. “Fine. Get your stuff and leave.” 

The brunette walks past Macarena and into the apartment they’d been living in for nearly two years. Together. Until their arguments had become so frequent and had gotten so out of hand that Zulema walked out on her four weeks ago, in the middle of the night. Taking nothing more than a toothbrush, a few clothes and her cellphone with a charger. They were over. 

The brunette makes her way into the bedroom, noticing the unmade bed and the pile of clothes on the floor next to it. Macarena definitely hasn’t been doing laundry these past few days, if not weeks. She smiles to herself, a strange happy feeling in her chest at the idea of Maca being just as affected by this as she is. Not that either of them will admit it though.

She drops her backpack next to the big closet with four drawers, where she knows her clothes should be. Already reaching for the second drawer, Zulema is interrupted by Maca’s voice. 

“I changed the order. Your stuff is in the bottom one.” Zulema wants to comment on this, but she decides not to. She kneels on the floor and opens her backpack, immediately starting to pack it with the clothes she left behind when she walked out of this apartment. Black underwear, black socks, some uncomfortable jeans that she needs to throw out anyway. And then, something that she doesn’t recognize. 

“This is not mine,” Zulema picks up a light blue bra, dangling it off her finger. “And it’s not yours either.” She looks up at Macarena, whose eyes dart to the item Zulema is holding. The blonde’s heart immediately starts to race. Fuck, she really should’ve thought of a better place to hide that. But then again, she didn’t expect Zulema to turn up all of a sudden and demand to get her clothes back at this hour. 

“It’s from Rizos. She forgot it.” 

“Who’s Rizos?”

Macarena exhales loudly. This is not how she wanted this conversation to go. “She’s a friend.” 

The brunette scoffs. “A friend with her underwear in your drawer? Sounds interesting.” 

“What I do with my life is none of your business anymore, Zulema.” 

Zulema stands up, slightly taller than Macarena and a lot more powerful because of the way she’s dressed. The bra drops onto the floor. Macarena’s eyes follow it, memories of that blue bra being ripped off a body and dropped onto this exact floor three days ago flooding her mind. She’s too lost in these thoughts that she doesn’t notice Zulema coming closer, until the brunette is standing inches away from her. Close enough to feel her breath on her face. “Tell me about her. Was she good?” 

Macarena’s eyes widen, anger running through her veins. Zulema needs to _go._ Right now. She gives the brunette a shove that makes her stumble backwards. “I’ve just told you it’s none of your business. Get your things and leave, Zulema.” 

The brunette glares at her. The silence seems to last forever, just them exchanging angry looks and emotions, before Zulema drops to her knees again next to the drawer. Macarena is surprised, is the brunette really obeying her? 

She should’ve known better. 

“I know what you’re doing, Maca,” Zulema starts talking, while she continues to stuff her bag with clothes. “You’re going around, fucking other people, trying to forget me and find someone that lives up to your expectations.” Two, three, four sweatshirts are stuffed into Zulema’s backpack. “But you won’t. I was too good. I knew your body too well. I knew how to either make you come in two minutes, or leave you hanging for twenty.”

Macarena swallows. She doesn’t want to acknowledge the effect Zulema’s words have on her body. Still, after a month of not seeing her. So she just keeps pretending. “It took you long enough to even get to know me a _little_ ,” the blonde counters. “And I’ve found plenty of people out there that have been able to satisfy me. If I give someone the chance to really get to know me, they’ll easily live up to my expectations.” 

Zulema zips her bag and stands up to her full height, but doesn’t take the bag with her. 

“So you’re telling me this Rizos girl is gonna live up your expectations?” Zulema takes a step in the direction of the blonde. Macarena takes one back, trying to keep the distance between them. “Tell me how she fucked you. Missionary? That won’t do it for you. Not with a stranger.” Another step closer. One step back. “If you’re trying to find someone that does it like me, they’d have to go down on you. So you wouldn’t be able to see their face, reminding you that it isn’t me.” Another step closer. One step back- the wall. Macarena immediately panics. She panics because Zulema is right, and she’s just told exactly how things went, and now she can’t go anywhere while the brunette is still coming closer. 

“Zulema…” Macarena starts, but her voice sounds more like a moan than a plea to stop. The brunette smirks, finally face to face with the other woman, reaching out for her nightgown. But Maca is fast, and she grips Zulema’s wrists with her hands. Stopping her.

“Don’t touch me. Go away.” 

The brunette looks into her eyes. Although the most part of Macarena’s stare is anger, somewhere beneath that, there’s desire. 

“I don’t think you want me to go away.”

Maca’s grip on her wrist loosens, and Zule takes this opportunity to slide this hand underneath the blonde’s nightgown. She feels the woman in front of her tense up as she comes into contact with a bare thigh. 

“I do,” Macarena says, trying to steady her voice. “I do now. _You_ walked out on _me,_ Zulema. It’s been a month. I’ve made peace with it, and now I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. I _hate_ you.” 

Zulema slides her hand up a little further, until she reaches Macarena’s hip. Provoking her. It seems to do the job, because the blonde reaches down and rips her hand away.

“ _Déjame_ ,” she hisses. “Go.” 

The brunette glares at her, but doesn’t move away. “Is that really what you want? Or do you want to feel me one more time, fucking you until the only thing coming out of your throat is a scream?”

Macarena clenches her jaw. It takes all of her willpower to not give in, to not let the brunette fuck her right here and right now. “I don’t want you to touch me anymore. Fuck off, Zulema. Leave.” 

The brunette waits a few more seconds before she turns around and walks back to the drawers, lifting her backpack from the floor and slinging it over her shoulder. “Fine, _rubia._ I think I don’t have to tell you what you’re missing out on.” 

She turns and walks out of the bedroom, making her way to the front door. Just when her fingers find the door handle, seconds away from opening the door, she is pushed face first against it. The cold material collides with her cheek, and she drops her bag in the process of trying to soften the blow with both her hands slamming against the wood. 

“Stop treating me like a fucking piece of shit just because you consider yourself one,” Macarena hisses into her ear. She finds a spot and bites down hard, making sure to leave a bruise. Zulema growls. _“Rubia…”_ A warning. 

“I hate you for walking out on me,” Maca says, the pain and anger in her voice way too evident. Although she likes to believe she’s over it, this once again proves she definitely isn’t. “Fuck you, Zulema. _Fuck_ _you_.” She twists one of Zule’s arms so it’s pressed against her back, pushing her even harder against the door. Macarena is furious, and bites down on the original bruise on the brunette’s neck. 

Zulema tries to get out of the blonde’s grip, but Macarena is surprisingly strong and the fact that she’s still pressed against the door doesn't make it very easy for her. There’s physically not much she can do to get out of this, but Zulema has always known you only need one thing to survive in life. And she uses it - her brain - to think of a solution. 

While Maca is still leaving marks on her neck, Zulema sighs deeply and pretends to relax her body. The blonde smiles against the warm skin, thinking that the brunette is giving in. Zulema feels Maca’s grip on her arm weaken a little, and this is her sign. She unexpectedly turns around, slamming Macarena’s hand away and using the speed to turn the blonde around, reversing their positions in the blink of an eye. 

Now Macarena is the one who finds herself pressed against the door, with her back to it, facing Zulema. The brunette holds her wrists in a tight grip next to her hips, making sure she can’t move. 

Zulema leans in, their lips just inches away from each other. 

“Got you.” 

Macarena struggles against Zulema’s hold, a furious look on her face.

“ _Suéltame._ ”

The brunette just smirks and shakes her head. “Nah. I know you secretly want this.” She kisses Macarena’s neck before biting down hard, payback for the bruise that’s already forming on her own neck. “No- Zulema, stop it,” Macarena breathes. “I don’t want this.”

The brunette does stop, and pulls back a little to look at the other woman’s face. She is panting, her eyes wide and mostly filled with desire. “Yeah, you look like you hate it,” Zulema grins. She prepares herself before letting go of Macarena’s hands, simply because she needs her own, and the blonde immediately starts pushing her away. But it’s not that easy, especially when one of Zulema’s hands makes its way underneath the blonde’s nightgown and touches her directly over her panties.

“Fuck- don’t touch me,” Macarena counters. But she feels her body responding against her will, arching up into the brunette’s touch, and she _hates_ herself. Hates herself for allowing this to happen, hates her body for responding to Zulema’s touch like this.

“ _No-_ ,” Macarena breathes, but it turns into a gasp when one long finger slides into her underwear and inside of her immediately. Zulema is testing her, and the brunette can’t help but smirk when she feels how wet Macarena is already. The blonde’s words were clearly telling her to fuck off, but her body is a speaking language of its own.

“You’re _soaking, rubia,_ ” Zulema whispers. 

The blonde’s hand - still weakly pushing against Zulema’s shoulder - falls down her side, against the doorframe. She cannot find her voice. The feeling of the other woman’s finger inside of her is heavenly, and both of them know Zulema spoke the truth earlier when she said there was no way Maca could ever find someone that satisfies her the way Zulema does. But still- this is _wrong._ The blonde opens her eyes - she doesn’t even remember them falling shut - and searches for Zulema’s. She finds that they’re watching her face intently, not missing even the tiniest movement of her muscles. _This shouldn’t be happening-_

“Stop,” Macarena pleads again, although her body is eagerly accepting everything Zulema is giving her. “I don’t-”

But it’s too late. Zulema adds two fingers and roughly pushes them inside of her, causing her head to fall back against the door with a moan. “ _Fuck_.” Macarena feels her knees get weak and although she doesn’t want it, one of her arms comes up to wrap around Zulema’s shoulders. Keeping her upright. “There you go,” Zulema whispers, feeling how Maca pulls her closer. “This is what you want, isn’t it?” By now, the brunette has already loosened her grip and isn’t forcing the other woman into anything anymore. It’s the blonde who keeps holding on, despite her words telling a different story. 

Macarena feels how she’s desperately clinging to the body in front of her, despite knowing that this isn’t right. But there’s no way out- not when it feels _so fucking amazing._ A rough Zulema has always turned her on, and the both of them know that perfectly well.

“This-” she gasps. “This doesn’t mean anything. I still fucking hate you.”

Zulema grins, finding the other woman’s eyes. “Means a lot from the bitch currently riding my fingers.”

Maca’s eyes flash with anger at this, overshadowing her pleasure for a few seconds. “ _Puta zorra,”_ she counters angrily, but it sounds too breathy to even be considered an insult. Zulema is too fucking good at this. And the brunette is well aware, a smirk already forming on her lips.

This makes Macarena even angrier. “I hate your stupid smug face,” she gasps when, at the same time, Zulema curls her fingers upwards and finds the spot against her front wall that makes her knees go weak. The brunette pauses her movements for a split second, loving the way Maca's hips move forwards to follow her fingers and trying to get them to push back inside again.

“Then turn around and face the door instead, _rubia_ ,” Zule scoffs.

Macarena glares at her. She would rather die than obey the woman who has broken her heart and left her with this feeling of hatred inside of her. “Make me.”

Dead silence for one, two, three seconds, until- “ _Joder, Zulema!_ ” the blonde yells out as she feels two strong hands turn her around and slam her, face first, against the door. But there’s no more time to complain when Zulema pushes her fingers inside again, drawing another moan from the blonde. Macarena’s head falls back against Zulema’s shoulder and she rests both hands flat against the wall for support. 

Zulema curls her fingers and feels the blonde’s body tremble. “Faster,” Macarena breathes, pushing back against the brunette’s body. “You’re so fucking predictable,” Zulema whispers in her ear. Macarena almost growls when she hears the smile in the other woman's voice. “Fuck you.” 

The brunette chuckles. “The pleasure is all mine today.” The blonde moans again, louder, when those fingers start moving faster and she rests her forehead against the door. Zulema’s lips find the back of her neck and move down the sides, biting down again. Leaving more marks. “Oh- fuck!” Maca knows that she’ll be sore tomorrow. But she really couldn’t care less. Zulema smiles against her neck, feeling the heat of the blonde’s body in front of her and hearing her moans get louder. She moves her hand even faster. 

“ _Yes!_ ” The sound of Macarena’s hand slamming flat against the door echoes through the apartment. 

“Yes?” Zulema teases. “Are you gonna come?”

This choice of words sparks something in Macarena. She doesn’t want to give Zulema the pleasure of seeing, hearing and _feeling_ her come. But she’s too far gone already. 

“Come for me, _rubia,_ ” the brunette urges. 

“I’m not- I’m- _fuck,”_ Macarena struggles to finish her sentence, the pleasure too overwhelming. “I’m not doing anything for you.” She tries to hold herself back for as long as she can, not wanting to give into the pleasure just yet. 

And Zulema pushes even deeper, harder. 

“I said, come.” 

With her body pressed tightly against the wall, Zulema’s front against her back and one hand still working quickly inside of her, Macarena comes. 

A loud cry leaves her lips and turns into a string of trembling, high-pitched moans as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. It seems to last forever - Zulema notices how small drops of sweat have formed on the blonde’s neck and she continues to whimper, aftershocks making her body tremble until minutes after. And even then, the blonde can’t get her breathing under control. All she can do is rest her forehead against the wall, feeling how Zulema’s arm has wrapped itself around her waist to steady her. 

“I think no one has been able to top that, or am I wrong?” Zulema teases, pulling on Maca’s waist to make her turn back around and face her. Macarena’s angry glare has softened a bit, the intensity of her orgasm has taken away most of the fire in her eyes. But still, she’s not done. “You know what, Zulema?” 

The brunette squints and tilts her chin, daring Macarena to continue. She stays silent, though. 

“I really fucking hate you.” 

Zulema chuckles, slowly pulling her fingers out while she keeps looking Maca in the eye. “I really fucking hate you too.” She lifts those three fingers and holds them in front of the blonde’s mouth, challenging her. 

Macarena’s eyes flicker from the fingers in front of her, back up to Zulema’s eyes, and back down again. But she seems to have no intention of obeying the brunette’s silent command. This makes Zulema raise her eyebrows.

“Don’t act shy now. We all know where your mouth has been before.”

A few more seconds of silence. Then the blonde finally grips her wrist, pulling those fingers towards her mouth. But then a knock on the door interrupts them, followed by an _“Rubia? Soy yo."_

Macarena recognizes the voice immediately and although Zulema doesn’t, she still grins and takes a step back. “Open it,” she motions towards the door. The blonde looks at her, unsure what to do, but a second knock sounds and there’s no way she’s getting out of this. She attempts to straighten her nightgown and turns around, not missing how Zulema’s fingers disappear into her own mouth. 

The door opens and she meets a familiar face.

“Rizos?”

“Hey, Maca,” the brown-haired girl smiles. “I wanted to see you.” Before the blonde can answer, Zulema appears next to her and is still sucking on her fingers. Rizos looks at her, then back at Macarena, until her eyes focus on Zulema again. “Who are you?” 

Zulema shrugs, lifting her backpack from the floor and takes a step towards Rizos, slowly pulling her fingers from her mouth.

“Your girlfriend tastes good.”

She slings her backpack over her shoulder and pushes past the two of them, into the hallway. “We’re not- What the hell?” Rizos starts with a confused look on her face. She doesn’t finish her sentence. And Macarena can’t do anything but stare at the brunette’s back as she disappears down the stairs, leaving her with Rizos in an awkward silence. 

* * *

  
  



End file.
